Sometimes, when he was at school, and she wasat the nail salon, she would take pictures with her cell phone ofdifferent nail polish bottles, send them...to him, and ask him to choosefor her. Finally, she started taking him shopping with her, alwaysasking his opinion on the things she was looking at.None of this was something she had ever done before. He was the sameson he had always been, just with some growth on his chest. And yet,she started treating him differently.His objections to all of. ......squeezing them......pulling on my skin covering them......my cock head so thirsty for your wet warm moist mouth to suck it I lick my hand, needing it to be moist and touch it rubbing it round in circular motions and feeling the sweet sensitive ache it has.......I lower my hand and grab my cock hard and pull it up hard as you like that from our conversations and pull my foreskin up to my head and take another picture of you as you can see from the picture I sent you.......now I very hard,. It was almost11 when we paid our check and hopped back in the car. Our hands continuedto mingle across the front seats."I never even asked if you had a curfew," I said."Nothing written in stone, but if it gets too late, mom likes me to calland check in with her. But it's probably late enough that we should justhead back to my house."I wasn't sure whether that meant our date would end at that point or not.I didn't have any crazy notions about what might happen. I mean, it wasonly our second. “Aurora,” he said, his words low, hurt. “What did she—”“You fucked her!” I screeched, launching myself at him. I raised my arms over my head. “You fucked my mother!”He flinched. I saw it in his violet eyes. The truth. He had fucked my mother. The guilt burned across his obsidian face. His pointed ears twitched. The anger surged. I swung my arm down, cracking my totem into the side of his head. He grunted, his head snapping around. Skin torn. Blood poured down the side of his face.“My mother,.